Tales From the Terran Republic

Chapter 121: The Morning After Post-Mortem Pt 1

In uniform this time, Admiral Pierce walked towards a conference room in The Spire, the consolidated Republic Defense command center.

Admiral Saysangkhi sprinted to catch up.

"Helluva night, huh," she said, her almond-shaped eyes glittering with delight.

"Putting it mildly," the admiral said with a chuckle. "Somebody, and I think we all know who decided to declare war. What is Jon thinking? He just tossed any diplomatic resolution right out the fucking window."

"Is it confirmed?" Admiral Saysangkhi said, looking up at him. "Is it her?"

"Not officially," Admiral Pierce replied. "Hopefully, the bitchasers have something for us… But who else can it be, Neveah? Did you see the footage?"

"Some of it," Admiral Saysangkhi said. "Pretty scary shit. That… whatever it is… kept engaging targets after we hit the system. We couldn't stop her."

"We never could," Admiral Pierce said as they reached the door. "Jesus, this is going to be a shitshow… Ready?"

"No," Admiral Saysangkhi laughed as they opened the door and walked in.

***

"We… we lost all ten of our primary storage depots… all of our nukes… the food… the medicine..." a very nervous Bai stammered as she knelt. "The training facility as well as our two main barracks..."

Patricia Hu just stood there glaring at her, shaking slightly.

"L-losses to our combat fleet were significant. They… they knew exactly which ships to target, my lad-"

Patricia shrieked and, drawing her sword in one fluid motion, struck…

With a flash of steel and a "clang", her blade was deflected.

She shrieked again and slashed at Monarch…

Who effortlessly deflected that blow as well with her bian, a long four-sided metal rod, and either parried or simply dodged the flurry of strikes that followed.

"My Lady," Monarch sighed, "Bai has served us well and was instrumental in preserving what few assets we have left, including you... and I believe we have lost enough bloodlords for one day."

Patricia glared at Monarch, breathing heavily. When had she gotten so good? She should be in pieces on the floor, not looking down at her with barely disguised contempt. She should strike her down for her insolence, but could she?…

And the stance Monarch had just taken… It was subtle, an almost imperceptible shift in her weight, but she was ready to strike.

Patricia knew if she stepped forward, she would be fighting for her life...

And she didn't know if she would win.

"My Lady," Monarch said as she lowered her head respectfully but still looking directly into her eyes, nearly paralyzing her (When the hell did she learn that trick and how dare she use it on me!), "I beg your forgiveness for my insolence and plead for your mercy."

Monarch "knelt" (crouched), still looking directly into her eyes. It appeared to be an act of contrition, but Patricia couldn't help but notice that she was still perfectly centered, her weight perfectly distributed.

Monarch's face was one filled with fear but her eyes…

Patricia forced herself not to shudder. She knew full well what Monarch could do with that damned rod of hers, and it wasn't pretty.

If her victim was lucky, she would kill with a single blow so fast it could barely be seen, but most of her victims weren't so blessed. For most, death came slowly as almost every bone in their body shattered, and they were left, unable to move, as the shock and pain slowly consumed them.

Even if her victim was "saved", they weren't spared. Their body could be rebuilt, of course, but the damage was so extensive, so complete, that they, and more importantly, their chi, never moved quite the same again. They were forever diminished…

Ruined, weak, vulnerable...

From the look in Monarch's eyes, she would NOT be one of the lucky ones.

Patricia felt a sharp twinge in her side from where someone far less skilled than Monarch had nearly killed her. If she failed to stop that damned mouse from cutting her, what chance did she have, really have, against someone like Monarch?

But Monarch was giving her an out, a way to back down without losing face. All she had to do was "forgive" her. Patricia choked back the bile as she realized that she was being given "a path of retreat" and took it.

"You are fortunate that you are so valuable, Monarch," Patricia Hu said in a cool, regal voice. "I would cut down anyone else for far less."

Patricia examined her blade and found, with a mixture of annoyance and even more concern, that it was completely unmarred. So complete was her skill, her dominance, Monarch had batted away her blade without even damaging the edge!

"And you are correct," Patricia said. "We have lost enough good people. We must make do with what we have left," she said, looking at Bai as if she was a worm.

"Thank you, My Lady," Monarch said in a relieved, submissive tone… but those eyes… They threatened to consume her utterly. It was becoming hard to breathe.

"Leave me," Patricia said. "I do not wish to be disturbed."

***

"An act of war has been committed against the Republic!" Glenn Maxwell, the head of Republic Intelligence, shouted before everyone could even take their seats.

"Well, an act of war was certainly committed on somebody," Admiral Pierce replied with a smirk as he sat down.

"You think this is funny?!?"

"Glenn," the admiral replied with a smile, "I think everything is funny. It's how we kept sane out there in the black while you were sitting on your ass writing documents."

"If it wasn't for us' sitting on our asses', you wouldn't have lasted a week against the bug, and you fucking know it!"

"Yeah, Pierce," Admiral Saysangkhi chided, "Remember that one time they were right?"

Glenn Maxwell's eyes flared, and he drew in a sharp breath.

"Gentlemen," Augustine Raharimampionona said in a calm but commanding tone as he started to reply, "Can we please keep departmental rivalries at bay until at least the briefing is over?"

"Sorry, Prime Minister," Maxwell replied in a professional tone, clearly still pissed off (or otherwise stressed for some reason).

"So," Prime Minister Augustine (she went by her first name for obvious reasons) said as she looked at her tablet. "What do we know, actually know?"

***

"I owe you my life," Bai gasped as she and Monarch left Patricia's chamber.

"Yes," Monarch smiled, the holographic butterflies on her cheeks fluttering as she did so, "you do, and I hope you remember that in the days to come."

"I will!" Bai whispered urgently. "But why? Why did you do it?"

"In this wonderful little organization, there are two kinds of people," Monarch said with a faint sneer, "cultists and salarymen, those who caper about eating babies and kissing Her Ladyship's ass and those of us who actually keep this freak show running. We are the salarymen, and there were precious few of us before last night. Now," she said, looking at Bai gravely, "there are less. I can't afford to lose another of my people. You are one of mine, right?"

"Absolutely!" Bai said with absolute conviction. Nobody had ever stood up for her like that, risked their life for her, even before Yellowstone. Even her beloved Arban would have just stood there and let that maniac chop her in half.

"Good," Monarch said, the butterflies on the side of her face shimmering in the light.

***

"Last evening starting at 21:43 Republic Standard Time, a series of strikes using thermonuclear weapons was launched in the Barnard's Star system by an unknown attacker using a stealth equipped strike craft of unknown design," Admiral Pierce said calmly. "All targets were the property of Red Phoenix Holdings. A total of thirteen stationary assets and seventeen ships were destroyed, with no survivors. Total dead is unknown."

The admiral cut his eyes at Glenn.

"It seems," he continued with a smirk, "That Red Phoenix Holdings has not released an official casualty list as of yet."

"Mr. Maxwell," Augustine said, the corner of her wizened oaken face curling up in a faint smile, "could you please ask Ms. Hu if she would be so kind as to release that information?"

"I… I…" Glenn stammered, caught off-guard, "(Ahem) That is a matter for Interpol. They can submit an official request."

"We have," Inspector General Schwartz said. "We can't get in touch with any of their senior leadership."

"I wonder who's left." General Kara Litton, Commandant of the Terran Marines, snorted. "I mean, is Hu even still breathing?" she asked as she looked impishly at Glenn Maxwell. "Jesus, could you imagine if she got the old neutron sandwich? She could be getting her cheeks clapped by Ol' Nick as we speak."

Several members in attendance, both in and out of uniform, tried very hard not to shift nervously… with varying degrees of success.

"General!" Prime Minister Augustine snapped. "That is entirely inappropriate!"

"My bad," General Litton grinned, "He's already stuck in one nasty hole as it is." Kara looked down. "Sorry, dude."

"General!" the Prime Minister shouted as snickering broke out in the chamber, "If you can't at least pretend to be professional, I shall eject you from this briefing!"

"Do you see what we have to deal with?" the Secretary of State complained as the snickering continued. "It's like this every damn time!"

"I'm already painfully aware of the situation," the Prime Minister said as her wizened oaken face glowered at certain people in the room, "Now, can we please continue?"

"Right," Admiral Pierce said, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the grin off of his face, "The exact nature of the craft used and the pilot are as of yet, unknown."

"It was a Reaper!" a surprisingly youthful appearing member of parliament shouted. "Everybody is saying that it was! What are you hiding, Admiral?"

"Well, it isn't one of ours," the admiral smiled. "All Reapers are accounted for. If you would like, you can go and count them yourself."

"Bullshit!"

"It's definitely not a Reaper," A Naval Captain interjected.

"And who, exactly," the MP sneered, "are you?"

"Captain Soto, Naval Intelligence," he replied. "It is very close, but it is definitely not a Reaper. It's better."

"What?!?"

"For starters, its ammunition capacity is definitely larger," the captain replied, "One of ours could not have done the damage that was inflicted. It would have run out of missiles."

The captain looked down at his tablet.

"And the jump rate is significantly better," he continued. "Unfortunately, we have little solid information due to the enhanced stealth capabilities and the… um… rather short observation windows that any sensor in proximity had before they were… incapacitated. Still, thanks to some very fast thinking people at the Barnard's Star Solar Observatory, we do have some excellent long-range scans of the incident and the time between jumps is simply not possible for a Reaper. Even a Shrike would be hard-pressed to keep up, and that is just short range. This thing was bouncing all over the system! It is very similar to a Reaper, but it's definitely not one."

The captain paused and looked at the room.

"It's a 'Reaper 2.0'," he said as the room broke out into murmurs. "We believe it was designed specifically for this role."

"Impossible," another naval officer said. "Even if we devoted an entire shipyard to turning out a new design the second that Colonel Wintersmith sent his message, we would still be months away."

"Maybe it was someone's pet project, something that they had been working on for a while?" a silver-haired woman in a beautifully embroidered green blazer asked.

"Yeah, but who?" Admiral Saysangkhi asked, already knowing (and dreading) the answer.

"About that," the captain said. "We feel we know with some degree of certainty who the pilot is."

"Who?" Prime Minister Augustine asked, leaning forward.

The captain sighed.

"Shit." Admiral Pierce muttered.

"Yes, Admiral," the captain replied.

"Goddammit." Admiral Pierce grumbled quietly.

"Well?" the Prime Minister asked.

"We have been able to locate all former and current Reaper pilots and account for their activities during the attack… except one."

"Lieutenant Gloria Samuels," Admiral Saysangkhi said in a very calm, even tone.

"Yes, Admiral," the captain said gravely. "She is the only missing member of the Reaper program."

A collective groan (and a few tossed styluses) issued from the Naval contingent.

"Fuck." General Litton said without a glimmer of a smile.

"Well, now that we know who it is," Glenn Maxwell said, "how do we stop her?"

Rueful laughter.

"You don't get it," Admiral Pierce said in a somber tone. "We can't. Nothing can. This is the ultimate worst-case scenario. Gloria Samuels, in an enhanced Reaper, with a nuclear arsenal? When I say that I would rather hear that an entire Bug battle fleet jumped into Sol, I am not exaggerating. That would be better than what we are facing right now."

"You can't stop her, or you won't?" Maxwell asked in an angry tone.

"Mr. Maxwell," Admiral Pierce said, "I am an officer of the Republic Navy. With a heavy heart, I would strike down Lieutenant Samuels without hesitation, and we will try to do exactly that, but it's not that simple. In a Moray, she is..."

Admiral Pierce sighed.

"… unstoppable. Nothing can stop her. Every single target she has ever been assigned is dead. She doesn't stop until it is gone. No matter the odds, no matter how impossible we thought the mission, it was achieved, every single time."

"When we were planning battles," the Naval Intelligence captain added, "We tracked her location the same way we tracked capital ships. In fact, she has more kills than most of them."

"She holds the record," Admiral Saysangkhi said gravely, "Not just for the Navy, not just for the Republic, she has more confirmed kills than any single individual in human history."

"H-how many?" Maxwell asked.

"Fifty-seven million, Glenn. She has personally killed fifty-seven million sapient beings, and that's just what we can confirm. The actual number could be much higher."

The admiral looked directly into Glenn Maxwell's eyes.

"That's what we are up against. She has flown more sorties in a Moray than any other pilot in Republic history. She repeatedly dove headlong into the worst fighting we have ever seen and not only survived but accomplished her objectives, only returning when she was out of ammunition, screaming at the crews to load her back up so she could do it all over again."

"I had her on the Vengeance," a dark-haired man with streaks of grey wearing the rank of rear-admiral said. "She isn't human, not anymore. We called her The Lich, and we didn't give her orders. We unleashed her. She flew solo, not even a wingman because everyone who tried to keep up died within minutes. Nothing could stop her, not even a direct order to retreat. She ignored those all the time. She just kept going."

"Why wasn't she court-martialed?" someone asked.

The admiral just laughed.

"If she was flying any other ship in the fleet, she would have been, but it was a Moray," the admiral replied. "Those blew up all the fucking time… and she got results. When you are as good as she is, you can get away with a lot of shit, and she knew it. One time, after we had to withdraw from an engagement with the bug, she was MIA for two whole weeks. We thought she had finally died, but no, she showed up, starving, with an empty missile bay and footage of their flagship getting turned into scrap."

He looked into space for a while.

"If a private organization, or individual, has found its way onto her 'list'," he said with a quiet little smile, "It's over. She will kill every single one of them, and there isn't a goddamn thing we can do to stop it."

"So, what are we going to do?"

The admiral laughed again.

"Pray she runs out of missiles."

***

On the Paper Tiger, Sheloran just stood there in awe, mouth slightly agape.

"All of these are nukes?" she squeaked in disbelief.

"Yep," the chief said. "All of them."

"Where did she get them?"

"No idea," the chief shrugged. "And to be honest, I don't want to know."

"I know," Bunny said cheerfully over a nearby speaker.

"Where?" Sheloran asked.

"Mars."

"No shit?" the chief said, his eyestalks jerking in surprise.

"No shit," Bunny answered. "you haven't looked at the isotopes?"

"Been a little busy," the chief said as he started opening up the missiles in preparation for arming.

"Everything has been scrubbed, no easy feat without bricking the damn things," Bunny said, "except for the actual missiles themselves. Dust don't lie. These missiles have flaxen hair, literally. I found six of them so far."

"Thanks for telling me," the chief said sarcastically, "and the Plath," he added with a somewhat more serious tone.

"Oh, like she's going anywhere anytime soon," Bunny snickered, somewhat "disappointed" (but of course it's impossible for Bunny to feel that) that Sheloran didn't react, but Sheloran didn't seem to even notice.

She was just standing there, staring at the insides of a nuclear weapon with a dreamy look in her eyes.

So primitive, she thought. Why don't they just-

She blinked. There was a brief image of… something… and then it was gone, leaving only odd glyphs connected by strangely contorted lines in her mind's eye.

Soon even that dissolved, leaving only an all-consuming curiosity in its place. She simply had to know all about these things.

She had to.

She pointed at a small cylinder.

"What's that?" she asked excitedly.

***

"So, even if she knew the Reaper so well, she could design one from memory," the silver-haired woman in the green jacket asked, "where the hell did she have it built?"

"If she could somehow get her hands on the proper components," a naval officer replied, "there are hundreds of custom shipbuilders who make performance spacecraft on a daily basis. I'm sure one of them would be willing to make something like this if the price was right… and based on what we know of her family background and her recent activities," he added, "she could probably pay it." He looked at his tablet.

"The limiting factor would be the components," he said, furrowing his brow. "A lot of this stuff is tightly, and I mean tightly, controlled. Getting two Morays wouldn't be an issue. Since we started phasing them out, those are a dime a dozen on the surplus market. But everything else, including the unlocked nukes, is definitely not."

"Well," the Prime Minister asked, "do we have any idea where she could have obtained stuff like that?"

"There are a few possibilities," the Inspector General replied. "There are a few 'engineering firms' that cater to mercenaries and the like. One, in particular, comes to mind. We're moving on them as we speak."

***

"Hi, mom!" a huge-eyed garden snake with a prehensile multi-forked tongue said happily.

"Jeruzz?" a slightly darker snake asked with surprise and delight. "Jeruzz! It is you! Oh, my little one! It's so good to see you!"

"Same here!" Jeruzz exclaimed happily. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, my darling clutchling! But you shouldn't have called. You should be saving your credits!"

"I got a job!" Jeruzz said with an excited warble. "A job!"

"You did?" his mother asked, warbling happily. "Even without one of those certificate thingies?"

"Yes! Can you believe it?" Jeruzz said, bobbing his head up and down. "It's just a contract job, but they paid a bunch and gave me a huge advance! Mom! It's enough to pay for school!"

"Oh darling!" his mother warbled.

"Then I can get a job at a refinery and make enough for all of you to come!"

"That would be wonderful!" his mother exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm an office manager! Can you believe it?!? They put me in charge of a whole office!"

His mother's tongue drooped slightly.

"An office manager? Without a certificate?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yes!" Ms. Martinez (that's my boss!) said she liked my eyes. It's amazing! I was the first applicant, and she just said 'good enough' and gave me the job!"

"And what are you doing… exactly?"

"I'm working for a place called Janustec while they go through something called a GTFOD. It's some sort of business thingy. Everyone else is really busy with the GTFOD, whatever that is, so they entrusted me with the whole office! I answer all the phones and say 'Welcome to Janustec,' and then I say their company slogan, 'Yellowstone, Yellowstone, Yellowstone' and then I take a message, but most people just hang up (weird). But if they do leave a message, I write it down and send it and all the emails to this special inbox. They even gave me a special phone for important stuff! I have a phone! It's called a 'burner'! They even said I could keep it!"

"Honey, this sounds a little..."

"Oh, my stars, mom!" Jeruzz enthused as his mother's tongue drooped further, "They were so nice! They even said that their new location was fully furnished, so I could take anything I wanted!"

"Are you sure that's ok?"

"Things are different here in the Republic, mom!" Jeruzz exclaimed as a dozen black grav-cars silently descended onto the parking lot. "They have so much they can just give it away! Even this call is free! They have their own hyperspace relay! They told me I could call as many people as I wanted!" he exclaimed, bouncing with delight. "In fact, they insisted! I got a computer and a wonderful holo-screen and-"

BOOM

Jeruzz was cut short by a deafening explosion as armor-piercing flash bangs shattered the armored transparent front glass…

Followed by dozens of armored humans!!!

"Hands up!" a loud voice shouted.

Jeruzz's tongue shot up above his head as his pupils dilated in shock.

Two armored humans ran up to him as the rest of the squad swept the building.

"Whath thappening?" Jeruzz lisped as his mother started screaming, "My baby! Don't hurt my baby!"

The pair of hardened veteran agents lasted about three seconds before they started giggling.

***

"Fucking Janustec," the Inspector General grumbled as he hung up his phone. "It was Janustec," he proclaimed. "Either that or they all decided to rip out all of their drives and take the day off after convincing a poor xeno that 'Yellowstone, Yellowstone, Yellowstone,' was their company motto."

***

On the other side of the planet, an older gentleman walked into a room containing a large cardboard box with an electric blanket stuffed inside.

"You ok, little guy?" he asked in a kind voice.

"Am I in trouble?" a weak voice warbled from underneath the blanket.

"A lot of people are in some very deep shit," the man said with a chuckle, "but I promise that you aren't one of them."

"Can I call my mom?"